


The Taste of Blood and Chili Dogs

by acid_and_oil (orphan_account)



Category: DCU
Genre: Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Minor Dick Grayson/Koriand'r, Past Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Soul Mate AU, also, but please don't hold me to canon, mostly new earth because that's what i'm most familiar with, where you taste what your soul mate tastes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 17:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12775764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/acid_and_oil
Summary: Dick Grayson is 19 years old and has yet to have his first soul taste. He suspects he doesn't have a soulmate, or that his just isn't human. But then the taste of chili dogs and death on his lips may prove him wrong.Based on that soul mate AU on Tumblr where soul mates can taste what each other are eating.





	The Taste of Blood and Chili Dogs

Soul mates. They were a reality in the world in which Dick Grayson lived. Everyone knew that. Generally most people never actually met theirs, so of course it was possible to have a perfectly functioning relationship without one, but finding your soul mate? That was coveted. That was the ideal. 

Growing up in the circus was like being raised by an extended family. A colorful, strange, but loving, close-knit family. He got to see all kinds of love, both soulmate and not. His own parents were soul-bonded, and young Dick longed to find his own other half. His own perfect, destined match. 

“What’s it like, Mama?” he would ask, wonder in his eyes. “How did you know Papa was your soul mate?”

And Mary would fluff his dark hair fondly, and grin. Answer him like she hadn’t told this story one hundred times.

“It was that awful, bitter coffee that your papa always drinks. With just a nip of scotch in it. I had been tasting it every morning for two years, and then when I met your father, and we got along so well. Then I found out about his morning habit- ah! I just new it was him.”

Soul mates could taste what the other one was eating. It wasn’t every time, but from time to time after the onset of puberty. While he was at the circus, Dick was still a child, but he would dream of what his mate may look like. What she would taste. How they would meet. 

“You’ll find each other, my Robin,” his mama would assure him. And Dick would glow. He couldn’t wait for his parents to meet her. They would be so happy that their son found a love like theirs.

Being soul mates did nothing to protect John and Mary Grayson. Soul mates could meet a tragic end just as easily as anybody else. Maybe even more so. Young Dick Grayson found this out the hard way, heartbroken and sobbing, his parents broken bodies still clinging on to each other, even in death. 

Finding his soul mate was longer something Dick thought about. He through himself into fighting crime, and into pleasing his adoptive father. Into being Robin. 

He was still a child the first time he brought the subject up to Bruce. An older child, on the cusp of puberty, but not yet of soul mate age. 

Dick was about twelve at the time. He had witnessed Catwoman’s flirting before. The playful banter, suggestive glances. The way she would rest her hand on Batman’s chest, fingers splayed and words purring. 

 

“Is she your soul mate?”

Selena had suggested that Batman send Robin off to play before. The night before was the first time that he had actually listened. Robin had tailed for a time as backup, before quickly discovered something that he would rather not have witnessed. He was still awake when Bruce finally came home at four thirty in the morning.

 

“I wouldn’t know.” Bruce’s tone was even, matter-of-fact. 

Dick tried to wrap his mind around that. He thought about what to say. “How could you not know?”

Batman turned around, and Dick thought he was ignoring him until the man came back clutching a black rectangle box. He opened the lid. Inside were two glass vials of blue liquid and an injection gun. 

 

“Soul taste suppressants.”

Because of course Bruce Wayne would see his destined perfect match as a liability.

It wasn’t until two years later that Dick brought up the subject of soul mates again. This time, it was in regards to himself.

“I’m fourteen now, B.”

Bruce barely looked up from his newspaper. It was probably case-related, scouring for in-between-the-lines clues.

“And?”

“And? And I haven’t had my first soul taste!” Dick was old enough. He should have tasted something by now. 

“Just as well. You don’t need any distractions.”

“Distractions?” Dick was incredulous. “This is you, isn’t it? You injected me with that… with that junk.”

A dark look crossed Bruce’s face, and his tone briefly matched. “I would never give you suppressant without your consent. Although I still stand by reasoning that you should be on them.”

Dick rolled his eyes, but he believed him.“I know.” Then another thought occurred to him. “Maybe I just don’t have a soul mate.”

Bruce nodded. “It’s possible. Or your supposed match hasn’t reached age yet.” Or they’re dead. That was a cheery thought.

 

Time went on. Robin had been dismissed. He still saw Bruce, worked with Batman from time to time, but the relationship was strained. Tense.

Dick had found his place with the Teen Titans. The little boy from Haley Circus had found his place with a new motley crew. It was amazing. Even better, Dick had found love.

Tamaranian physiology was different. He would later learn that Kryptonians who went through puberty under Earth’s yellow sun ended up with human soul mates, but most aliens did not. It gave Dick a sense of freedom, knowing that he could choose. That Starfire was with him because she wanted to be, and that he could still find love without a Taste. And it truly was love. Even years later, when everything with her went to shit and his life was turned upside down, he still knew that it was. Before then he had even convinced himself that Star was his soulmate, and that he didn’t get the taste simply because her biology wouldn’t let her.

Chili dogs. Shortly before he became Nightwing, Dick’s self-acceptance and image was shattered by the taste of greasy meat, and the sensation of a soggy bun. The first soul taste an intense experience. When paired with an extreme emotion, tastings often came with the physical sensation of whatever was in the others mouth as well as the flavor. This was especially true if the two were in relatively close proximity of each other. They could also come with any extreme emotion associated with the taste.

Blood. The second taste he got, the peer into his soul mate’s taste buds, and it was apparent his so called soul mate had a tendency to get clocked in the jaw. The tastes were fairly few and far between. It was likely the person had only just hit puberty, so Dick saw no problem with keeping his findings to himself. When Wally eventually dragged it out of him, he gave him a bit of a hard time, but was ultimately supportive of Dick’s choice to ignore it.

When he told Starfire, she seemed to have a few reservations, but only because of Dick’s happiness. He had to reassure her that he wanted her, that he chose her. She was the only happiness that Dick could ever want. He knew firsthand the pain of being replaced. Bruce had taken in a new Robin now. Dick wouldn’t do that to Starfire. He couldn’t put her through that.

But damn, whoever cooked that chicken Marsala must have used the same cookbook as Alfred, because it sure tasted familiar.

He had been tempted to go to Bruce and ask for the injection that would block his soul taste, but his pride quickly put an end to those thought. Besides, as long as he stayed on the west coast he didn’t taste them as much. A bloody punch here. A slice of cake there. More chili dogs, of course. Dick wondered what his soul mate could taste of his. What emotions? Could they taste anything that he put in his mouth? Subconsciously, he began to refrain from using his mouth to perform any intimate acts with Kori. It wasn’t the change itself that began to drive a wedge between him and Kori. Rather it was the reminder of what it represented. It added one more suitcase on top of the whole baggage cart that was Dick Grayson. 

Nightwing was on a mission off-planet at the time. He should have realized that fate would find him, even here.

A spike of panic. The familiar tang of iron. His match was bleeding again. 

There was a lot of it this time. More than ever before. More than Dick could remember ever bleeding himself, and he was a freaking vigilante. He could physically feel it, too. Flowing. Choking. A ghost of another trauma's, filling up his mouth. Congealing on his palette. He could feel the pain, too. The desperation and betrayal. The sheer terror, as well as iron will.

Everyday after that, all Dick could taste was the stale rot of the grave. Of death. Oh, he knew it was all in his mind. That the taste didn’t work like that. But if he had just bothered to look for the kid when he had the chance… if he had been on Earth, if he wasn’t running from his problems, then maybe…

Six months later, and the taste of dirt was in his mouth. He knew he wasn’t imagining it this time. Couldn’t be. The feelings of confusion were not his own. Sporadically, Dick would get a taste of food here and there, too. Chicken broth. Dry bread. What he was reasonably certain was mold-covered strawberries. His mate was alive! His emotions were terribly muddled and he wasn’t eating well, but he was alive. 

He sought him out, then. He kept a journal of flavors and emotions and sensations. Marked note of the days and time. The locations were he felt The Taste the strongest. He got nothing. 

When Dick was out patrolling as Nightwing, he tasted something that made his stomach freeze. Something sharp and salty. Musky. Accompanied by the physical sensation of…

Well…so what if his mate found a sexual partner? It’s not like he intended on marrying the person. It’s not like hadn’t engaged in similar activities with Kori after the first soul taste. 

But the feelings that accompanied all the rest? The strong emotional part? It was all wrong for a relationship. Fear, disgust. Confusion. That ever-present fog that his mate always seemed to have starting six months after the blood incident gave the impression that perhaps his mate was in no state of mind to provide consent.

Dick had no doubt that his soul mate could Taste the vomit that he just couldn’t keep down. The realization that it likely paid for the meal he tasted after that, the first chili dog in six months, did nothing to ease the ache that had settled deep in his heart.

 

Alfred opened the door to find Master Grayson, sweating profusely and looking like he hadn’t slept in weeks. 

Bruce was there intermediately, helping his former ward inside. “What happened?”

 

Dick smiled weakly. “So how about those suppressants?”

 

 

Barbara Gordon was his world. They had history, similar existences. She was sharp and gutsy, and could call him out in ways that were simultaneously frustrating and absolutely endearing. So it just about punched a hole in his heart when she gave him back the engagement ring.

“This isn’t the end for us” she told him, although he somehow instinctively knew it would be. “Think of it as more of a pause. You have a duty to uphold, as well as some stuff to figure out.”

They had mutually agreed that he would not only take up Batman on his offer, he would also wean himself off of the suppressants while he did so.

The taste of blood and Chili dogs was back. Dick was at least grateful that the fog had lifted, but it was replaced with flares of rage. It was also apparent that his mate had taken up smoking.

He was going to meet with Barbara again. It had been just over a year, and he was ready to make his decisions, for the two of them to talk things out and see where they stood. Just as soon as he tied up a few loose ends. And by loose ends, he means Jason Todd.

The first time they met, Jason was all curly hair, green-blue eyes and street-smarts. This time? This time, he sitting on a chair in Dick Grayson’s safe house that he had apparently broken into. Sitting on a chair, helmet off, and waiting. There was chili dog in one hand, and a slow ooze of blood pooling from a split in his smug lips.

**Author's Note:**

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